


Taste (Not Enough)

by Meowser_Clancy



Series: Jimel Moments [6]
Category: Ghost Whisperer
Genre: F/M, Frustration, More - Freeform, Yearning, lap dance, not enough, wanting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:38:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7675774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowser_Clancy/pseuds/Meowser_Clancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag to 3x16: Deadbeat Dads. Because Jim didn't usually have a woman who wasn't Melinda sitting on his lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taste (Not Enough)

**Author's Note:**

> And Melinda is so sassy at the beginning with Payne. There's no way that it didn't go down like this with Jim because you can tell she's already vaguely irriated.

 Dinner was a disaster and there were no two ways about it. Jim got into the car with champagne covering him and Melinda soon followed. "Let me drive," she said.

"But it's my truck," he protested.

"You're all wet," Melinda said, standing at the driver's door, trying to convince him to come down.

"You'll move the seat," Jim said, not sure why she was offering.

She simply put her hands on her hips and Jim, sighing, stepped down from the truck, holding out his arm for Melinda to take because he knew that she'd need the boost. Because he'd given her a boost into the truck a few minutes ago and she'd jumped down, running around to his side.

She took it, hiked her dress up to make the step, revealing one stiletto clad foot with very fine arches and a slim ankle.

Sometimes Jim couldn't get over how amazing his wife's body was, and sometimes he just got caught on the small things.

She looked down at him, in the midst of moving his seat forward about a foot, raising an eyebrow. "Hmm?"

"Nothing," he said, clearing his throat, walking around to the other side of the truck and tugging at his pants before he got in.

"So," she said after they'd been driving for a few minutes. "Nina was interesting."

"Yeah, she was," Jim agreed, smiling. "For what little we saw of her."

"Ooh, well, some of us saw more of her than others," she said, laughing a bit.

He turned to look at her, hearing a note of something that was most definitely not joy in the laugh; it was much too sarcastic.

"Did we?" He questioned, keeping a clueless tone in his voice because he wasn't sure where she was going with this...and the date had been one of her 'it's Payne so we have to do it even though we had other plans' extravaganzas.

So if Nina had ended up in his lap...well, Jim wasn't going to blame himself for that fact. He was a gentleman. He was always going to catch a falling lady, not that he'd had much choice.

"Well, yeah, not all of us had her chest in our faces," Melinda said.

Glove dropped.

Oh, this was on.

"Well, not all of us wanted to go out tonight," Jim said carefully, shifting in his seat to hide his hard on because, honestly, sometimes fighting with his wife only turned him on. Turned him on hard.

"Oh, well, not all of us…" Melinda trailed off, realizing that this avenue wasn't looking very fruitful.

"Yeah?" He asked innocently and she just shrugged.

"Are you taking a shower?" She asked, turning into their driveway.

"I suppose," he said. "Though I already took a shower today...twice."

"Well, whose fault is that?" She said, taking the key from the ignition and jumping from the truck, hurrying to the house with a very irritated sway in her walk, something that only made Jim swallow as he followed her, watching her hips move.

She took off her shoes when she reached the porch, waiting for Jim with the house key.

"I'm not unlocking it," he announced.

"Excuse me?" She asked, sounding affronted.

"I'm waiting," Jim said.

"For what?" She questioned, hands on her hips.

"For you to realize that, not only did I not invite Nina to sit on my lap, I couldn't care less that she did," Jim said. "I can't imagine something making so little an impression on me."

Somehow it was the wrong thing to say.

"Really?" Melinda drawled. "You mean a very hot, very long limbed, very well endowed woman sitting in your lap doesn't even make an impression on you?"

"She wasn't really sitting in my lap," Jim said. "She was on me for a second and then she got up."

The street was dark.

"And you can't imagine anything making less of an impression on you?" She said, voice dangerous.

He found himself nodding, playing along.

She reached out with one hand, flattening it on his chest, steering him backwards towards his chair on the porch.

"What are you doing?" He asked. "If this is a play to get the keys, it won't work."

It was too dark to see her face.

She pushed him into the chair and he just sat there for a moment, waiting for her to move because he still wasn't sure what was happening here.

And then she lifted her hands up to her hair, moving her arms slowly, sensually, pulling it off of one side of her neck, tipping her head so it all fell to one side.

He breathed in sharply and she slowly stepped forward, parting one of his knees with her leg and swaying over him, chest getting dangerously near his face.

She almost, almost brushed against him, and the anticipation was killing him, waiting for the touch of her breasts on him but she pulled away at the last second, placing her hands on his arms, because he was holding tight on the arm rests to keep himself there and she needed somewhere to hold onto.

She was bracing her hands on him, making him flex the muscles beneath her, and she slowly brought her leg up his thighs, her hair tickling his face, her chest getting close to his face again, and he began to wish that she'd been wearing a lower cut dress tonight. Because this was maddening. He could see the pull on the fabric, see how she was weighing the material down, but she was so covered and he couldn't stand it.

He breathed in, keeping himself there, his hands clenched on the chair, as her knee slowly crawled up between his thighs, parting them all the way up, brushing against him.

And he was hard.

Maybe she just hadn't been expecting how hard, how ready he'd be after just seconds, because she gasped, a tiny sound in the evening air, and it took everything in Jim to not take control of the moment, but this was going to be so good if he just let it happen, let Melinda wash over him.

His arms flexed under her palms, reacting to her, and she gasped again, another tiny sound.

Oh god.

And he could tell that she was about to give up, about to just forfeit the win to him and he didn't want that to happen.

"Nothing," he said, voice hoarse.

"What?" She asked, confused, thinking that he was as in the moment as she was and not understanding this.

"No impression," he whispered.

Stunned silence.

Had he taken it too far?

He'd taken it too far.

And then Melinda was snapping back, jerking away from him, and his mouth was open, ready to apologize, say that my god she'd made an impression but she was moving, swaying around his chair, determinedly rubbing herself on his back, shoulders, neck, her hands creeping to touch him there, play with the skin at the open collar on his shirt before ghosting away again, running down his shoulders, rubbing his arms, before disappearing.

And he waited, licking his lips, trying to breathe, and her face was touching his, the soft warmth of her cheek unexpected against his and he turned his face, wanting to catch her, but she jerked away, and then her mouth was on his other ear, pulling the lobe between her lips, and he keened, deep in his throat, trying to keep in control.

She pulled away the instant she heard the sound. "No impression, huh?" She whispered. "Too bad."

"No," he panted, lust for her making him admit it, letting the game fall to shambles, only wanting her near him again.

She pulled back, again frustrated, taking his words the wrong way and he again opened his mouth, meaning to correct her, but she'd moved around the chair again and was climbing into his lap, and he lost all words as her thighs touched his, as she hiked her skirt up to straddle him, as she finally ground her pelvis against his, making them both moan, low and long.

Her face was near his again and this time he captured her lips in his before she could get away, tugging her bottom lip into his mouth, hungry for her in every way.

Her lips fell away from his, and he thought that it meant another round but her hands were on his shoulder and her lips fell to his neck, licking at the skin there. "God, Jim," she rasped. "You taste like champagne."

And that was what sent him over the edge.

His hands came to her waist, clasping her tight, lifting her with ease, maneuvering to get them out of the chair and her legs wrapped tight around his waist, keeping them together.

He meant to bring them inside ASAP, but her lips were still on his neck, and he wanted to taste them again, tilting his chin until he could nudge her face to meet his, dragging her lips up, capturing them again, plundering her.

She moaned, angling her head better, taking him far and away, making the kiss about ten times better.

He cupped her ass in one hand, keeping her there, holding her close as one hand made a treacherous journey to his pocket, trying to get the damn keys but it was too hard, and he pushed her against the door, letting her slide down until her feet hit the ground, pinning her to the door, bending over her.

He'd never get over this. Never get over how it felt to bend over her, everything in his body straining towards her, arms tight around her waist, tighter, hands roaming up to her chest, finding her damn delectable breasts, pulling at the neckline on her dress.

This damn one shouldered thing.

He broke the kiss to plant a frustrated kiss on her bare shoulder, licking the skin there, biting a little when he didn't get a reaction and she moaned, bringing one restless leg up to brush his groin.

Yes.

This could work.

He finally found the keys, shoved them into the lock and brought them inside, slamming the door closed and fumbling for his jacket, casting it aside.

"No tie," Melinda suddenly whispered, mouth on his neck again. "I love your neck in a dress shirt with no tie. It's very provocative. It shows you off, so much damn skin, but you're still fucking covered up."

And being told that he was the provocative one was a bit too much to handle, since she was the one with a bare shoulder.

His lips were on her neck, and the flower on her dress…

Surely this neckline was wide enough.

He started to edge it down, finding the zipper on the back and decided to go that route instead, sliding the zip through its fastenings until he could pull the arm off, the dress falling to the floor.

Yes.

He scooped her up into his arms, and she was dressed only in a slip, bra and panties, arching herself towards him as he brought her up the stairs, their tongues still battling, his lips tight on her plump bottom one.

They finally reached the bedroom and Jim kicked the door open, finally getting Melinda to the bed, laying her out before him, watching as she spread her arms, as if trying to take up as much space on the large bed as possible, but Melinda was so unfailingly tiny, and she just lay there in the middle, bringing one leg up, waiting for him, tempting him.

He almost tore off a button but managed to get his dress shirt off unscathed, yanking off his undershirt and throwing it far across the room, not caring where it would end up.

His shoes were left. God, he hated this part of the equation. Shoes were always hardest.

He managed to kick them off without untying them, finally climbing onto the bed with her, looming above her for a moment, feeling her bent knee brush his chest. She was keeping him up and he just breathed in and out for a moment, trying to keep himself there, wondering what she needed, and then she was slowly bringing her knee up, until she'd hooked it over his shoulder, and he hadn't even known she was this flexible.

"Touch me," she whispered, her voice a plea.

He reached his hand down, brushing it over one thigh, sliding up, discovering that he'd been wrong.

She hadn't been wearing panties.

His fingers slipped inside her, feeling how wet and ready she was, a fact that only made him want her more, and he turned his head to press a kiss to the knee on his shoulder before sliding down her body, his fingers still moving inside her, making her buck against him, shudder, as he finally reached gold, his lips sliding over her belly until he was in between her thighs.

"Oh, god, Jim," she breathed.

"I can't imagine more of an impression than this," he whispered, and placed his mouth on her.

She cried out, her thighs clenching around his head, the soft silkiness of her skin making him moan inside her, as his mouth delved into her.

"Please," she breathed. "Please, Jim."

And she finally shattered, leaving Jim licking his lips and sitting back, Melinda panting.

"You didn't even take my bra off," she whispered a few moments later.

He grinned. "Maybe I was saving that for round two," he said, and she giggled.

"You know, for something that started out as lap dance for you, it certainly ended up with me winning," she breathed, as he pulled back and started to take his pants off.

"I'd always bring you there first," he said, dragging them down, feeling her gaze there, caught on his groin.

"Did you get hard when Nina sat on your lap?" She asked suddenly. "I'm not blaming you. I swear to god. I just...I'm mad at her, not you."

"Be mad at Kate," he said, walking towards the bed.

"Condom," she reminded.

The mention made him pause, lick his lips, turn to grab one from his nightstand, hope she hadn't noticed the hesitation.

Because he shouldn't hesitate. It was her choice. Their choice. But it was Melinda who'd be the one carrying a baby, their baby, and he couldn't trick her into that.

She shimmed out of her slip as he watched, moving to the edge of the bed. "Let me do it," she whispered. "Please."

She pushed it onto him, rolling it over, holding him in her hand for a long moment after she'd finished.

"God, I love you," she breathed. "Which is why I'm so mad at Nina and really, really hope she didn't get to feel you because I am the only woman allowed to do this. Not because I'm possessive or jealous, I mean, I am, but not usually." She looked up at him, wide eyed. "You know what I mean. Don't you?"

And she was so innocent, oblivious to the emotions coursing through him right now, to how he could suddenly only picture her currently bare breasts swollen with milk, how she'd look pregnant with his child.

"Yeah, I do," he whispered, and pushed her back onto the bed, gently moving over her, hands caressing her flat belly as he entered her, making her moan, arch into the touch.

"I love you," she breathed. "So much, Jim. You know that."

His lips fell to her neck, stifling the words he almost said, didn't believe in his heart but right now his mind was forcing them on him.

He sucked at her neck, making her squirm beneath him.

_Not enough to have my child._

"I do know that," he finally whispered in her ear. "And oh god, Mel, I love you."

_So much. So damn much it hurts._


End file.
